Not Soul Mates
by pharo
Summary: Maria’s feelings are admitted to a certain someone.


Not Soul Mates ****

Not Soul Mates

Author: Pharo

Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and the WB.

Summary: Maria's feelings are admitted to a certain someone.

Feedback: [pharo@onebox.com][1]

Statistics show that most "soul mate marriages" end in divorce. 

I always tell him that. Every time Max Evans gets googly-eyed over her, I remind him once again that the odds are against him. And every time—not willing to see the truth—he shakes his head sideways, as if he's a wet dog.

It's not like I make it up to disappoint him. All I do is speak the truth. The way I see it, I am helping him become informed and trying to save him much pain. After all, he is one of my best friends.

***

The last period of the day had ended fifteen minutes ago, signifying the beginning of the weekend.

"Want a ride, Maria?"

"Of course."

Max and I were walking slowly through the mostly-empty halls, talking about the stupidity of horror films.

"So, it's really stupid how they always make the killer someone you'd never suspect. For instance, in—"

I heard him take a deep breath and turned to look at him. It appeared as if he was holding his breath or something. 

"Max, what the hell are you—"

And then I turned my head to the direction he was staring at and I saw Liz Parker departing from some of her friends. She turned and headed towards our direction and I could sense Max's eyes watching her approach. It reminded me of that part in most movies when everything turns to slow motion and all the cameras are focused on that one person.

"Hey Maria. Hey Max." She greeted as she approached us.

"Hey Liz."

"Hey. How's it…uh…going?" Max asked, keeping the stuttering under control.

"Pretty good." She replied with a smile.

Then she waved to someone a bit farther down the hall. 

"Well, I have to go. See you guys around." She said.

"See you." Max replied, as she walked away.

Then he did this little wave thing that he was probably really happy she didn't see. There was something about her that made Max act like a dork when he was around.

"That is just sad." I said, as we started walking down the hall.

And then he started saying something else about her beautiful walk, her beautiful smile, or her beautiful something-or-another; I wasn't really paying attention. I couldn't help but feel invisible. 

***

One night, a night seeming as regular as any other, Max came into the Crashdown, like he always did, and sat down at the counter (as usual). When I came to greet him—I don't take his order, considering the fact that he orders the same thing almost all of the time—he had a big smile plastered on his face. 

"What's go you all happy today?" I asked.

"When are you off, Maria? You won't believe what Isabel told me." He whispered.

Isabel Evans was his sister. Once you got to know her, you saw the nice person she was. Guys lined up to be her boy toy. It wouldn't say that she treated them like dogs, but it was evident that guys would drop to all fours and bark if she wanted them to. 

"Let me go change."

***

After I got changed, we headed out of the little restaurant together and towards the parking lot.

"What did she tell you?" I asked curiously. 

"They broke up…Kyle and Liz broke up." He said.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed in shock.

Kyle Valenti, the star of the football and basketball team, had been going out with Liz for a couple of months now. All of a sudden, it was over. Due to things like that, I was not in a serious relationship…or any relationship for that matter.

"I can ask—"

"Maybe they broke up because she needed some time to herself. Just because she is single, doesn't mean she's looking for a boyfriend."

"Maybe. But, you can ask her if—"

I stopped in my tracks. 

"Jeez Max! Look around. Your life is perfectly fine. Don't you see that you don't need her?" 

"Maria, I love her." 

"How? How the hell could you possibly love her? Someone…someone you hardly even know. I don't see her loving you like you love her. You're pathetic. Every time you see her, you act like a complete idiot! If that's your big plan to win her over, it ain't working!" I shouted, hurling my anger at him.

"I don't know how, but I truly love her." He insisted.

"No Max, you don't. You obsess over her. Those are two completely different things." I said, softer than before.

"And what makes you such an expert on love, huh? When was the last time you've fallen in love with someone?"

Words failed to come out of my mouth. 

"Forget this!" I shouted, as I walked away from him.

"This is it." He shouted at me.

I turned around to find him standing in the same place with his hands dug deep into the pockets of jacket. His face was set and it seemed as if he expected an apology from me.

"Fine by me. Next time, you feel the overwhelming urge to tell me something, whether it be about her or not, just fight it. I am through with this. It's over." I shouted.

Turning, I ran away from him as fast as I could. I didn't even look back to see what his reaction was. I just picked up and left, not able to stand being so close to him. The tears blurred my vision, but I kept running anyway. After what seemed like hours, I reached my car. 

After three tries, I finally got the keys to go into the lock. I couldn't see clearly, yet it was too difficult to wipe away my tears at this point. They had to be there, as a way for me to remember that our friendship was over and the pain that lingered in my heart was because of it.

***

During the next two days, I did my best to avoid him. When I saw him in the halls, I turned to the other direction. He tried to talk to me a couple of times at the Crashdown, but I made someone else switch sections with me, which wasn't a problem now that his "soul-mate" was finally dating him. 

It felt weird to see him around and not say "Hi". I spent the second night of this non-friendship thing staring at my ceiling and wondering if I did something wrong…if it was my fault that this was happening. After all, I was the one who had blown up all of a sudden. But then I convinced myself that it was past due time. It wasn't my fault that I had enough of it, or that it made me sick every time he uttered about how much of a goddess Liz was. 

The sad thing was that I didn't care about his so-called feelings for her. She didn't deserve him and he shouldn't have been thinking that she was his soul mate. I mean what the hell was a soul mate anyway? And before I knew it, I started writing a letter to him.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

__

Max,

I've been thinking about this…thing we've been going through. I've been calling it "this non-friendship thing" because, well, I guess I don't really want it to end, even though I know it has to. I try to convince myself that maybe it doesn't have to, but let's face it, we can't—or at least I can't—go on living like this.

It hurts to hear you talk about how Liz is your soul mate. Now that you're finally dating her, does it feel like she is? It's just an honest and curious question.

I want you to say "Yes" because that's what you've always wanted or at least it's all you've ever talked about when it came to her. You may not think it right now, but it would make me happy if you honestly felt that she was your soul mate after being with her.

But, in my heart of hearts, I can't bring myself to think that you can be that blind to actually believe it. I mean how can someone who doesn't truly know you be your soul mate? Someone who doesn't know when your birthday is (or at least the one "assigned" to you) or what your favorite color is. Does she know what your favorite movie is? Did she hold your hand and play with you when no one wanted to (remember, the highly, contagious chicken pox)? Did she approach you on your first day of school and ask if you and Isabel wanted to play with her? Was she the one who introduced you to the wonderful world of Ben & Jerry's?

No. Max, she wasn't any of those things. I was. In my own way, I guess I'm trying to tell you that I love you. I know you better than I know myself. It's almost like we share a—I don't want to say soul. That would make us soul mates. I don't want to be your soul mate because statistics show that most "soul mate marriages" end in divorce. 

And then I think, all of these things I know about you and experienced with you, I almost wish that I hadn't. After all of the things we've been through, our friendship just wasn't strong enough, huh? I mean, what does knowing all these things about you get me? Nothing, but a kick in the face and "It's over". 

Being your friend for all these years…in the end…I guess it doesn't matter. Maybe it was because I was a bad friend or we just weren't what I thought we were, but all it has left me with is a big hole in my heart that once stood for something special…for someone special.

I spent nights wide-awake worrying about you when you were off on one of your "extra-curricular activities" with the law. I would've done anything for you; I care that much about you. But, in this world, caring doesn't count for much, does it? After all, how could you feel the way I feel for you…I'm no Liz Parker.

Sometimes I wonder if things could have been different if there had been other circumstances surrounding us and we weren't forced to make the choices we had to. Would it be written in the stars so that things still turned out the way they did? Would our lives be better, worse, or the same? What exactly would happen?

I guess the pain that being your friend has cost me almost makes me wish that we were never friends to begin with. And then I realize that being your friend has made me who I am. Without our friendship, where would I be? Who would I be? Without you, the Maria De Luca that everyone knows…that I know…would not exist.

So I thank you for letting me know you, for letting me experience life with you, but most of all, for being my friend, while it lasted. Now, that it's ended we'll both be better off…or so I tell myself.

Your old friend,

Maria De Luca 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

I felt better after writing the letter. I neatly folded it into thirds and placed it on my bedside table. Then I went to go take a shower. 

***

I didn't expect to see him when in my room after I came out of the shower. I was in my pajamas, towel wrapped around my hair, when I saw him sitting on my bed, playing with his hands. 

"Max?" 

"Hey." He said, quickly standing up as if he had been doing something wrong. 

"Hey."

Awkward silence invaded the air. It was horrible. I would've preferred almost any noise over that…the utter stillness between two people who used to be best friends.

"How are you doing?" He asked.

I sighed. It was too hard to stand there and have idle chitchat with him.

"I was looking through my CDs today and I realized that some of them were yours. So, um, you can have them back." I said, thrusting a stack of CDs into his hand.

"Maria, I didn't come here so you could give me some stupid CDs back. I came here—"

"Listen, I'm not in the mood to act like your friend right now." I said, cutting him off.

"When you want to talk, I'll be here." 

"No, you won't. Just…just go." I said.

He shook his head, turned around, and slowly left out the window.

***

I didn't realize until the next morning that I didn't know where the letter was. It was no where to be seen. I tossed around a bunch of stuff on and around my bedside table before coming to the conclusion that it wasn't there. I was examining the floor when I realized exactly where it went.

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!" I shouted, looking up at my ceiling as if it could offer me answers now.

The image kept flashing back to me. I saw the note on my bedside table, underneath the stack of CDs I had shoved into Max's hands. 

***

I've never realized exactly how small the town of Roswell is. It seemed to get much smaller once I decided that it was absolutely necessary for me to hide from Max. It was no longer a situation in which I'd merely ignore him, but more of a duck-and-cover-hide-under-the-table situation. I wasn't even casual with it anymore. Every time I saw him, I would flee, unless I was at work. It was impossible to flee then, hence the duck-and-cover.

It wasn't like I didn't believe absolutely everything I wrote in the letter. It was more of the fear of seeing what his reaction to the letter and to me after reading the letter would be. I am of course assuming that he actually read the letter. 

No matter how nice Max was, there was no way he'd be able to resist reading the letter. After all, no one can resist reading something that is right in front of their eyes. Heck, he probably thought that I meant to give him the letter, which is worse. 

The prospect of living a life in fear and hiding was in no way appealing. So I decided to do what I was the most afraid of doing: coming out of from under the blanket and confronting Max. 

***

I had left a note on the Jeep as soon as I got out of school the next day. I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle an entire car ride with him, so I took my own car. There was no need to add anymore tension that I'd have to eventually take care of. 

I had asked him to meet me at "the spot"—the quarry that he'd showed me so many years ago. For as long as I had gone there, I'd look out from the edge and take in the wonderful view that goes unappreciated anywhere else. The howling winds always accompanied the view and sent my hair flying around me. Occasionally the sun would look down at me and send a small streak down—not so bright that I'd have to squint, but enough so that I'd have a ray of guidance. 

I remember once suggesting to Max that maybe his home planet was really the sun. He had looked up and then back at me and asked me what made me think that it might be. I still remember my exact reply to him:

"Because the sun makes me feel good inside. It fills me with this warm, tingly feeling like the kind you get when your foot falls asleep. The kind of the feeling that I get when I'm around you."

Those were the good ol' days. Days when you didn't have to worry about your feelings or displaying them with fear of if they were reciprocal or not. 

What the hell was I doing? What was I going to tell him? What if hadn't even read the letter? What if—

"I got your note."

I quickly did a 180-degree spin and looked straight at him. 

"We have to talk."

***

I stared straight at those dark, brown eyes that had the ability to turn even the strongest person into a puddle of mud. I took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"Max, did you read the letter?"

"Was I supposed to?" He asked.

"I didn't mean for you to read it. It accidentally got into your CD bundle. But now that it's in your possession—"

"If I was never supposed to read it, why don't we just pretend that I never read it?"

He started to walk back to the Jeep. I knew he was giving me the chance to take the easy way out. If I were smart, I would've probably taken it. But what was the point? He had obviously read the letter, so I might as well face the truth.

"No! I'm tired of pretending. That's all I've ever done with you and I don't want to do it anymore. I don't regret writing anything I wrote in it. Now, I need to know how you feel about it." I shouted.

I shut my eyes immediately after the words left my mouth. 

"Maria, you don't want to go into this. Do you realize how messed up this could make things? God, you think you can write a letter like that and just expect us to talk about it. What the hell did you think you'd accomplish by writing a letter like that? Did you think it'd make everything better?"

The hot tears stung as the boy from the sun took his iron fist and it against my heart. As the words tumbled from his mouth, I found it hard to stand up straight. It felt like I would just bend over and throw up at any moment.

"I guess I've got my answer then." 

I wanted to run as fast as I could—away from him, away from the spot, away from the pieces of my shattered heart—but there was no point. 

Why would I run? To save my "friendship"? To hide my feelings?

Nope, all that was gone. It wouldn't make a difference whether I ran or just walked over to the hood of my car and sat down. Changes in location wouldn't make that aching feeling go away. 

I felt the hood of the car level as he sat up next to me. 

"We were there for each other when no one else could be. We led lives that were so closely entwined with each other that we had to see each other everyday to get by. You've been my best friend for as long as I can remember."

"I know." I said, sniffing.

"So, why can't it still be like that?"

I expected him to ask me that eventually. I had even asked myself that question many times before. 

"Because I can't live like that. I get it; you don't love me. I can deal with that. But, I can't pretend to be your friend and listen to you talk about Liz and how much you love her, when I love you like that."

I heard him sigh as he jumped off my car.

"I'm sorry." He said, before heading to his car.

***

A week later, I found him waiting in the parking lot for my shift at the Crashdown to end. He didn't even greet me as he saw me walk up. He immediately started talking.

"Do you remember all those times when Isabel and I had tried to find a way back home?

I nodded at him to continue.

"Well, I never told you, but we had found a way back home one of the times. We spent days thinking of what decision to make, weighing all the possibilities out. We finally decided to do it—I mean it meant going back to the place that held all the answers to the questions in our heads." He said.

I watched him pace back and forth.

"What happened?" I asked, unable to wait any longer.

"We were ready to go—halfway down the stairs, when I stopped. Isabel looked straight at me before we sat down on the stairs. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't leave this life that I had known for so long to be mine and head off to some place that was connected to me biologically. Sure, that was a big thing, but my heart and soul was here, on Earth."

"What about Isabel?"

"She couldn't leave it either. She always misses Mom and Dad when they leave for Albuquerque, so imagine how she'd feel if she could never see them again—be on a completely different planet."

"Parents are a big factor." I agreed.

He stopped pacing and looked straight at me.

"Something propelled me to stay that day. Something that at the time, I might have thought was my feelings for Liz Parker." 

"It probably was." I said, making myself stare at him. 

I had to get over him. And the only way to do it was to look into his eyes without breaking down.

"But now I realize that it wasn't."

That came as a surprise. I didn't know what to think. Did he find someone else that he liked more? 

"Feelings for someone else?" 

"Yeah. They were feelings for you." 

I gaped at him in shock. I was definitely not expecting that. It was one of those moments that you see on TV where the characters sitting in the booth all spit out their drinks. 

"Max, what the hell are you talking about?"

He took my face in his hands and kissed me. I surely would have fallen and hit my head if I hadn't been leaning against my car. 

"I. Love. You."

Had he said what I thought he said? 

"You don't have to say that to spare my feelings." I said.

"If I didn't I'd be lying to myself, like I've been doing for the past couple of days."

"What about Liz?" I asked.

I needed to get everything straight to make sure there wasn't a loophole or something in the fine print that would haunt me later.

"She doesn't give me that feeling that you do. She's too—this is between me and you—boring." He said, whispering.

"Your lovely Liz Parker—boring?" I exclaimed in fake shock.

"I kid you not."

I laughed—one of those laughs that only Max could get out of me. 

"How do I know that I'm not your rebound?" I said, starting to walk in the direction of my house. 

"Because I know better than that. After all, I fear the wrath of Hurricane De Luca." 

"Just as long as we make it clear that we are not soul mates."

And we walked hand in hand with the moonlight shining down on us. 

The boy from the sun had mended my wounded heart and I got my best friend back. 

   [1]: mailto:pharo@onebox.com



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